


never as alive as we are right now

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: 3zun reconciliation, Canonical Character Death, Double Penetration, Multi, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Some angst, Threesome - M/M/M, ass eating, implied/referenced character death later but it's off screen, thot lan xichen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Three perspectives on three sworn brothers, at three different times in their relationship.(Or, three times 3zun got it on and some of the feelings they had along the way.)





	1. Meng Yao

**Author's Note:**

> This was nearly called "3zun 3ways." You're welcome that it is not.

Nie Mingjue holds his bowl out when Meng Yao gestures, and Meng Yao tilts the jar to pour him a refill. He tips the remainder into his own bowl, looking a question across the table at Lan Xichen as he does. Lan Xichen smiles and shakes his head gently, lifting his still-steaming tea. His face has gone thoughtful when he lowers it, turning the now-empty cup in his long fingers.

“You always take such good care of us, A-Yao, even in the midst of a war,” he says warmly as Nie Mingjue drains his bowl, head propped heavily on one arm. “I am afraid we don’t always return the favor.”

Meng Yao sips from his own bowl, enjoying both the gentle heat spreading through his veins and the way Lan Xichen’s eyes darken as Meng Yao licks his lips . “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says easily, setting the bowl back down in front of him. “Da-ge and Er-ge take very good care of me.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could do better,” Lan Xichen murmurs, gaze sliding over to Nie Mingjue. Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows rise, and he sits up, setting his bowl on the low table as Lan Xichen leans toward him. Nie Mingjue bends his head as Lan Xichen murmurs something too low for Meng Yao to catch; it goes on for several sentences, and when Nie Mingjue turns back Meng Yao’s pulse picks up at the speculative expression on his face and the way his pupils have gone wide.

“You think he would?” Nie Mingjue says, clearly directed at Lan Xichen, and Meng Yao curls his fingers against his palm to keep himself from asking “ _he would_ what?”

The answer is almost certainly _yes_ , if it’s Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue asking. But Meng Yao wants to hear them say it.

Lan Xichen pushes himself up, circling the table with a slow, measured pace and a heavy gaze that has Meng Yao’s toes curling inside his boots. Lan Xichen kneels gracefully, sliding one arm around Meng Yao’s shoulders and settling the other hand on Meng Yao’s chest.

“Let us be good to you,” he murmurs directly into Meng Yao’s ear, and with his hand splayed over Meng Yao’s chest like that Meng Yao knows Lan Xichen can feel it when his too-eager heart skips a beat.

“Let us ease your burdens for a little while,” Lan Xichen continues in that low, warm voice, coaxing as he rarely is outside of closed doors. “Outside of this room your responsibilities are many; here, tonight, let my voice be your only commandment.”

Meng Yao tries to suppress the anticipation that threatens to shiver down his spine, but his breath is already coming faster as he turns to face Lan Xichen.

“I am in your hands, Er-ge,” he murmurs against Lan Xichen’s mouth.

Lan Xichen moves forward that last fraction, and Meng Yao can feel the smile pressing against his own lips. Lan Xichen slides his hands over Meng Yao’s shoulders, settling them high on his back.

“First,” he says as he pulls back, “you will be in his.”

Strong hands slide around his waist, pulling him up and flush against a firm chest he knows very well. Nie Mingjue doesn’t give him a chance to find his footing, turning him and walking him backward toward the bed as his mouth captures Meng Yao’s in a hungry kiss. Nie Mingjue is as aggressive in the bedroom as he is outside of it, hands making quick work of Meng Yao’s outer robes and leaving a trail of crumpled fabric behind them.

Meng Yao stumbles when the back of his shins hit the bed, sitting heavily as Nie Mingjue drops to his knees in front of him. Meng Yao’s breath catches in his lungs as Nie Mingjue captures one calf in a firm grip, tugging off his boot. There’s a rustle of cloth behind Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao looks up to see Lan Xichen settling into a low seat near the bed.

“Will you not -” Meng Yao has to stop and swallow as Nie Mingjue drops his second boot to the floor and gets to work on the rest of his clothing, warm fingers skimming Meng Yao’s skin. He shivers. “Will you not be joining us, Er-ge?”

“Soon enough,” Lan Xichen says composedly, folding his hands in his lap as Nie Mingjue tugs the last of Meng Yao’s clothing off and urges him further up the bed with strong hands. Meng Yao follows his direction, shifting himself up as Nie Mingjue strips off his own clothing quickly and efficiently.

“Da-ge is beautiful, is he not?” Lan Xichen murmurs, and Meng Yao has to tear his gaze away from Nie Mingjue’s broad chest and growing smirk. Lan Xichen’s own smile is more gentle but no less knowing, and Meng Yao feels his cheeks heat.

“You are beautiful as well, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says, calmly as if his words aren’t spinning up something bright and fragile in Meng Yao’s chest. “And you will be beautiful together.”

Meng Yao has to close his eyes against that, tipping his head back as Nie Mingjue crawls up his body, nosing against the bare skin of his shoulder. Nie Mingjue drags his lips across Meng Yao’s skin, leaving it pebbled and sensitive, and Meng Yao shivers as teeth set against his neck.

“Turn over,” Lan Xichen commands softly - and it _is_ a command, even gently-voiced as it is. Meng Yao shivers again.

He shifts to oblige, and Nie Mingjue’s strong hands are on his hips to help, settling him against the bed. Nie Mingjue molds himself against his back, a heavy, warm weight that envelops him completely, pressing him down into the bed. His breath speeds up and he digs his fingers into the coverlet, blinking fast as Nie Mingjue sweeps his hair to the side and presses open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

“A-Yao.” Lan Xichen’s voice brings him back to himself, a little, and suddenly there’s a cool hand covering one of his own. “A-Yao, tell me if you wish to stop.”

Meng Yao blinks again, trying to swallow back down the feeling of something too-large in his throat. Nie Mingjue stills behind him, and although Meng Yao can feel Nie Mingjue’s growing hardness pressing against the back of his thigh, Nie Mingjue waits patiently, resting against him.

Waiting for his answer, Meng Yao realizes, and it’s a good thing he’s lying down already; later he’ll blame the wine for the light-headedness, but the knowledge that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, heroes of the Sunshot Campaign and leaders of their sects are waiting on _his_ word -

Meng Yao breathes deep and twines his fingers with Lan Xichen’s. “No,” he says, and if it comes out threadier than he’d intended neither Lan Xichen nor Nie Mingjue mention it. “No, don’t stop.”

Meng Yao can feel Nie Mingjue’s smile against his hairline; Lan Xichen’s fingers squeeze his once, and Meng Yao blows out a breath as Nie Mingjue shifts behind him, pressing slow biting kisses down the length of his spine. Nie Mingjue nips at the swell of Meng Yao’s ass, large hands holding him still when Meng Yao’s hips jerk.

Two broad thumbs slide between his cheeks, and Meng Yao looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. The many and varied activities one might pursue in the bedroom are no mystery to him, but the sight of Nie Mingjue settled between his legs, spreading him apart with every appearance of satisfaction tightens something low in his gut and makes his own cock twitch against the bed.

“Da-ge is very good at this,” Lan Xichen says and Meng Yao can’t help but look back at him. There’s color set high on his cheeks and his eyes are heavy and dark, but otherwise Lan Xichen looks as collected as ever, even with one hand twined tightly with Meng Yao’s own. Meng Yao knows he can’t claim the same; he can feel the way his eyes are going wide, the flush traveling down his chest, the way his mouth drops open when Nie Mingue nips at him again.

“I would expect nothi _nnnngghhhh_ -” Meng Yao loses that thought as Nie Mingjue licks a broad stripe between his cheeks. Nie Mingue adjusts his grip and does it again, and Meng Yao struggles to get breath in his lungs.

Lan Xichen’s smile grows and Meng Yao can’t look away, the curve of those slender lips holding him in place as surely as the strong hand on his hips. He makes a choked off noise when Nie Mingjue circles his hole with his tongue, and Lan Xichen beams.

“That’s it,” he says, smoothing Meng Yao’s hair back from his forehead. “Let me hear you.”

Meng Yao’s face burns, but the way Lan Xichen is smiling at him, the way Nie Mingjue’s fingers are digging into his skin, seem far more important than his pride and so when Nie Mingjue’s tongue breaches him he doesn’t strangle the noise that tears from him, lets his body convulse under Nie Mingjue’s hands. Lan Xichen’s hand squeezes his comfortingly, and Meng Yao concentrates on breathing and the murmured words of praise as Nie Mingjue slips in one finger, and then another.

“Here,” Lan Xichen says, and it takes Meng Yao a moment to realize Lan Xichen isn’t speaking to him. Nie Mingjue’s mouth lifts away from him, fingers withdrawing, and Meng Yao shivers at the loss of warmth, at the sudden emptiness. Lan Xichen tosses something gently toward Nie Mingjue and Nie Mingjue lifts a hand to catch it, the object smacking against his palm. Nie Mingjue’s other hand pulls away and Meng Yao glances over his shoulder in time to see Nie Mingjue push himself up, prying the lid off a small jar. His cock bobs thick and heavy between his legs and Meng Yao’s mouth goes dry at the sight. He must make some sort of noise because Nie Mingjue looks up, catching his gaze; his smirk widens but his lips are red and slick with spit and Meng Yao’s hips jerk against the bed.

“Patience,” Lan Xichen says. “We promised to take care of you, did we not?”

Nie Mingjue snorts. “Not everyone has that Lan control, you know.” He dips his fingers in the jar and they come out glistening; he slicks up his cock and Meng Yao watches transfixed as Nie Mingjue’s fingers slide over the hard length.

“I know,” Lan Xichen says calmly. “This is why you are going first.”

Meng Yao looks back at Lan Xichen. “What do you mean _fir-aah!”_ He cuts off with a gasp as Nie Mingjue positions himself and starts pushing in, all in the same motion. He’s large, Meng Yao had known this; but knowing and feeling are always two different things. Nie Mingjue had prepared him just enough that the burn is pleasant instead of painful, the enticing tingle of muscles used in unfamiliar ways.

Nie Mingjue groans as his cock sinks in. He pauses, breathing heavily, then pulls back and pushes back in, working Meng Yao open in short, rocking thrusts. Meng Yao hears himself making a breathless little noise with each one; he feels speared open, Nie Mingjue hot and thick inside him, his hands adjusting their grip on his hips as he knees Meng Yao’s legs further apart. He pulls Meng Yaos’ hips up until his own are flush with Meng Yao’s ass and strokes a hand down the length of Meng Yao’s spine, resting it briefly against the back of Meng Yao’s neck.

“Breathe,” Lan Xichen advises. Meng Yao hadn’t realized that he had stopped. Nie Mingjue’s hand squeezes briefly before withdrawing; Meng Yao gulps in a lungful of air, but it’s just pushed out again on a whine as Nie Mingjue starts up a short, shallow rhythm.

“How does Da-ge feel?” Lan Xichen asks, as if he’s inquiring if a meal was to Meng Yao’s taste and not how he feels about Nie Mingjue’s cock up his ass. “Large, I imagine. That’s how he feels to me; almost too large, as if he might split me apart if he’s not careful.”

Meng Yao bites his lip against the shiver that wracks his body; to hear _those_ words out of Lan Xichen’s perfect mouth threatens to rob him of what little composure he has left. Lan Xichen’s thumb strokes over his wrist, cool and comforting and grounding even as his words pick apart Meng Yao’s control.

“Da-ge can, of course, be very careful. If he tries,” Lan Xichen continues, as calmly as if he’s listing his tea preferences. “But that is not, I think, what you want, A-Yao.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” the word slips out of Meng Yao’s mouth before he knows he’s going to say it. His cock twitches against his stomach; Nie Mingjue’s fingers dig into his skin and his rhythm falters for a moment.

“Xichen,” he gasps, almost on Meng Yao’s heels. “ _Fuck.”_ Nie Mingjue adjusts his grip on Meng Yao’s hips again. Meng Yao’s going to have bruises there tomorrow if he doesn’t do something about them; a minor qi manipulation will take care of it, of course, but Meng Yao wonders if they’re not worth keeping, to remember this moment by, when Nie Mingjue’s control starts to unravel.

“Is anything I said untrue?” Lan Xichen asks, smiling, and he has _got_ to stop talking or Meng Yao won’t last through this.

“Er-ge,” he manages, but Nie Mingjue has found his rhythm again and his sharp thrusts are quickening, driving the sense out of Meng Yao’s head.

“Yes, A-Yao?” Lan Xichen says solicitously, and Meng Yao just shakes his head. He’s already forgotten, everything’s starting to come apart -

“It’s all right, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says soothingly. He smooths the hair back from Meng Yao’s forehead again, his hand cool against the sweat building on Meng Yao’s skin. “If you come too soon Da-ge will just keep fucking you until you come again; we do, after all, have all night.”

Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue swear in unison, this time; Lan Xichen smiles serenely.

“Fuck him harder, Da-ge,” Lan Xichen says, voice warm and sincere. “A-Yao can take it, can’t you, A-Yao?”

There is only one answer to that. “ _Yes_ ,” Meng Yao gasps as Nie Mingjue’s rhythm falters again. He turns as much as he can in Nie Mingjue’s grasp, looking over his shoulder. “Please, Da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue’s fingers tighten again, and one corner of his mouth kicks up.

His next thrust nearly drives Meng Yao through the bed; Meng Yao braces himself as best he can as his knees go out from underneath him and Nie Mingjue’s weight bears him down into the mattress. Nie Mingjues drives relentlessly into him, pulling little breathy noises from his mouth that make Lan Xichen smile. Meng Yao’s legs are trembling and his breath is coming short; he gulps in air and blinks back wetness as Nie Mingjue’s cock rubs over and over against that spot that sends lightning up his spine, layering tension in Meng Yao’s gut until his entire body is drawn tight as a bowstring.

Lan Xichen squeezes his hand and murmurs something Meng Yao doesn’t quite catch, something about how beautiful he looks, how Lan Xichen knew he would, and Meng Yao _sobs_ as his body tightens up, fingers digging into the bed as his cock jerks against his stomach. Nie Mingjue swears behind him as Meng Yao’s body clenches up around his cock, but he keeps his rhythm, fucking Meng Yao through it as Lan Xichen had promised.

Meng Yao comes back to himself with Lan Xichen’s hand clasped tightly in his, lying bonelessly against the bed as his body rocks with each thrust from Nie Mingjue. He squirms a little, wrung out and oversensitive, and Lan Xichen pats his shoulder comfortingly.

“If you’re ready,” he says, apparently to Nie Mingjue, and Meng Yao has only a moment to puzzle over what that could mean before Nie Mingjue is dropping his head to Meng Yao’s shoulder, hips grinding into Meng Yao’s ass as his breath comes harsh against overheated skin. Lan Xichen murmurs something fond and meaningless; Nie Mingjue shudders, and seconds later his cock jerks inside Meng Yao, flooding him with warmth.

Nie Mingjue stays there for several long seconds, heavy and warm against Meng Yao’s back. Meng Yao is happy to let him; despite the wetness underneath him and the stickiness he can feel leaking down his thighs, he’s filled with a tingling lethargy, a pleasant blankness in his head that has too often eluded him.

Too soon, though, far before he’s ready to give it up, Lan Xichen squeezes his hand one last time and withdraws, cloth rustling as he stands. Nie Mingjue shifts like he’s going to get up as well, and Meng Yao turns his face into the bed so whatever shows there will be his and his alone.

Strong hands slide underneath his chest before he can sink too far into himself, however, pulling him up and back against a broad chest. Meng Yao blinks as Nie Mingjue sits up, settling Meng Yao over his lap, and as Meng Yao shifts for better balance he realizes Nie Mingjue is still half-hard inside him. Nie Mingjue rests his head on Meng Yao’s shoulder and his hands on Meng Yao’s thighs, spreading him wide over Nie Mingjue’s lap and holding him in place. The bed dips with another person’s weight, and Meng Yao looks up to see Lan Xichen settle in front of them, shedding the last of his robes.

“Ah,” Meng Yao says as Lan Xichen settles his hands over Nie Mingjue’s. His voice sounds scratchy to his own ears, so he clears his throat and tries again. “So that’s what Er-ge meant by _first_.”

Lan Xichen beams at him. “Just so.” He slides his hands up Meng Yao’s thighs; they’re covered in sweat and other fluids, but Lan Xichen doesn’t seem to mind. Cool fingers slip between his legs, and Meng Yao shivers as Lan Xichen skims over too-sensitive flesh to reach back to where Nie Mingjue’s cock disappears inside him. Meng Yao bites his lip and Nie Mingjue growls against his shoulder as Lan Xichen traces Meng Yao’s stretched rim, fingers curious and fascination writ large across his face.

Then his fingers grow more insistent, and Meng Yao’s whole body goes taut, breath stilling in his lungs as Lan Xichen presses inside.

Nie Mingjue’s arms come up tight around him, holding him fast, and Meng Yao struggles to get a steady breath in as his body tries to adjust. Lan Xichen stills immediately, face creased with concern - but he doesn’t withdraw, slender finger still cool alongside the throbbing heat of Nie Mingjue’s cock.

“A-Yao?” Lan Xichen says, watching his face carefully. “Do you want me to stop?”

He means it, Meng Yao knows. If he answers _yes_ , Lan Xichen will withdraw and they’ll say no more about it; maybe this moment will come again and maybe it won’t, but Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are too good to hold it against him. Nie Mingjue is large enough by himself, the thought of both of them inside him, at the same time -

The thought brings the breath up short in his lungs again, and _not_ from reluctance.

Meng Yao breathes in and out, slow and deliberate. “No,” he says, proud that his voice doesn’t waver or tremble. “No, Er-ge, don’t stop.”

Lan Xichen’s smile is bright and blinding and does something funny to Meng Yao’s chest; Nie Mingjue’s arms tighten around him for a fraction of a second, and then Nie Mingjue is nosing into Meng Yao’s sweat-damp hair, pressing insistent kisses along his neck.

“Ah.” Lan Xichen blinks as he’s just remembered something, and then withdraws his fingers, looking sheepish. He leans around Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao, reaching for the discarded jar of slick. This time when Lan Xichen’s fingers press against him, one slips in far more easily. Meng Yao lets out a deep breath, and Lan Xichen slides in further as he starts to relax. Nie Mingjue hums against Meng Yao’s neck, and although his hips remain still Meng Yao can feel the muscles in Nie Mingjue’s thighs flex as he fights to stay that way. Lan Xichen slides a second finger in alongside the first, stretching him gently but implacably. His fingers twist just so and Meng Yao gasps as it puts pressure on that spot inside him; he’d thought himself spent but his cock twitches in interest and Lan Xichen looks delighted.

Lan Xichen glances at Nie Mingjue, and the two seem to share a moment of wordless communication, because Lan Xichen pulls his fingers out, reaching for the jar of slick again as Nie Mingjue slides his hands back down to Meng Yao’s thighs. He cups the back of Meng Yao’s thighs, leaning slightly back as he lifts Meng Yao’s legs off the bed entirely. Meng Yao attempts to brace himself but he has absolutely no leverage like this, all of his weight supported by Nie Mingjue. He feels exposed, on display; he can still feel Nie Mingjue’s cock inside him, stroked almost back to full hardness by Lan Xichen’s exploring fingers, and Meng Yao drops his head back against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder, fighting the flush pounding in his cheeks and his head.

Warm lips brush against his cheek, and Meng Yao feels Lan Xichen press close along his front. He closes his eyes and Lan Xichen presses his lips briefly to Meng Yao’s forehead, swift and promising. Something slick and warm and much larger than fingers presses against where Nie Mingjue’s cock is stretching Meng Yao open, and Lan Xichen kisses him firmly on the mouth as he starts to press inside.

Meng Yao’s breath comes in short, desperate gasps against Lan Xichen’s lips; he’s caught between the two of them, unable to do anything except loop his arms around Lan Xichen’s shoulders and hold on. He’s full, so full already, but Lan Xichen keeps up a steady, unrelenting pressure and Meng Yao’s body gives way. Meng Yao feels his eyes stinging behind his lids as the head of Lan Xichen’s cock slips in next to Nie Mingjue’s, and he can’t quite stop the whine in his throat when Lan Xichen comes to a stop.

“A-Yao? A-Yao, look at me.” Lan Xichen’s voice echoes in the darkness behind his eyes and Meng Yao blinks them open, refocusing on Lan Xichen’s concerned face.

“I’m fine,” Meng Yao says, and he’s surprised to find that it’s mostly true. He takes a few deep breaths, and when he doesn’t break apart he tries clenching down on the cocks inside him.

The response is immediate. Nie Mingjue curses hot and breathy in his ear, hips twitching up, and that movement seems to set Lan Xichen off because he groans, eyelids fluttering and mouth dropping open. His own hips jerk forward, pushing him further inside, and Meng Yao laughs.

“You promised to be good to me, Er-ge,” he gets out, and he doesn’t even have to feign the delighted breathlessness. “Don’t -” he bites his lip as they shift inside him again. “Don’t back down now.”

Nie Mingjue grumbles something against his skin that sounds like “insubordination” but Meng Yao can hear that he’s smiling, and he’s already started to move; Lan Xichen is a heartbeat slower, but he takes Meng Yao at his word and presses forward as well. Meng Yao clings tightly to Lan Xichen and leans back against Nie Mingjue, trusting in them to hold him steady. He can feel them moving together inside of him, building up a steady rhythm that threatens to drown him if he lets it. His cock twitches against his stomach, hard and aching again even through the strain on his body; he doesn’t dare let go but Lan Xichen sees and unpeels a hand from Meng Yao’s thighs, taking him in hand.

“One more time, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen murmurs, the strain finally showing in his voice.

“For us,” Nie Mingjue murmurs into his ear, and that lances through Meng Yao like a lighting bolt, arching his spine and pulling his muscles taut. They hold him steady through it, Nie Mingjue groaning into his shoulder and Lan Xichen kissing him fiercely as he wrings down tight around them. He hardly notices when Lan Xichen shudders and sags against him, barely feels Nie Mingjue’s teeth sink into his shoulder as his hips jerk out his release.

He’s still floating somewhere not quite in his body as they slowly pull out, wrapping him in the nearest robe - Nie Mingjue’s - and settling him carefully on the bed between them. He feels it distantly when Nie Mingjue pulls him back against his chest, one solid arm wrapped firmly around Meng Yao’s stomach, and is a little more present when Lan Xichen pulls the bedclothes up over them, settling close enough to twine his legs with Meng Yao’s. Lan Xichen reaches out to cup Meng Yao’s cheek, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb, and Meng Yao takes a deep break, blinking his way back to them.

“How do you feel?” Lan Xichen asks quietly, and his eyes are warm and wondering and almost too much for Meng Yao to look at directly.

Meng Yao considers. “Sore.” He is, although probably not as much as he will be tomorrow if he doesn’t do something about it. A yawn catches him by surprise. “Tired,” he says, closing his mouth sheepishly.

Lan Xichen leans forward to press his lips to Meng Yao’s forehead, and Nie Mingjue splays his hand over Meng Yao’s belly. Two streams of qi flood his body, one warm and spicy like the pine scent of Qinghe, one cool and refreshing like the clean winds of Gusu. Meng Yao feels the bruises and over-stretched soreness lift from his muscles, and while he’s vaguely regretful to see them go it’s followed quickly by a bone-deep weariness that even the greatest cultivation can’t touch.

“Sleep,” Nie Mingjue says into his hair, and Meng Yao obediently closes his eyes.

There’s something here, something he doesn’t dare think too deeply about, in the way Lan Xichen looks at him, in the way Nie Mingjue holds him: like he’s interesting, like he’s precious, like they think he’s worth something more than another soldier or even a strong right hand. He can’t recall a time he’s felt calmer, felt _safer_ , than with Nie Mingjue wrapped around him and Lan Xichen holding him fast.

Better to sleep on it. Better to let them hold him as long as they will, to not think too far past tonight or the next day. They are at war, after all; no tomorrow is guaranteed, least of all theirs.

If it _were_ , though. If it _could_ be -

“Go to _sleep_ ,” Nie Mingjue mutters as if he can hear Meng Yao thinking, and Lan Xichen offers his own fond “sleep, A-Yao.” Meng Yao huffs a small laugh, covering Nie Mingjue’s hand with one of his and finding one of Lan Xichen’s with the other.

Better to sleep on it.


	2. Nie Mingjue

This particular tower outside Phoenix Mountain is reserved for the Lanling Jin sect, but Nie Mingjue swings the jade champion’s medallion in casual circles, letting it and his confident stride clear the way. None of the disciples or servants challenge him, even when he turns toward the rooms reserved for Jin family quarters; of course, this is not the first time he’s walked these halls unaccompanied, nor pushed open the door to these particular quarters without knocking.

The front room is empty, which deflates him momentarily. A quick search shows that the rest of the quarters are as well. Jin Guangyao he does not expect until later; he had, however, hoped to find Lan Xichen waiting for him, at least.

No matter. He knows in which elaborately carved cupboard Jin Guangyao is likely to keep the liquor, and more importantly, he knows which among the almost identical bottles contains the _good_ liquor. He can wait.

He’s just poured his second serving when the door swings open again, and he looks up to see Lan Xichen closing it gently behind him. Nie Mingjue leans back, letting a smirk grow on his face as he raises his bowl in greeting.

“Coming to congratulate your champion, Xichen?” He slides his thumb behind the medallion and lifts it off his chest, the silk ribbon that holds it looped around his neck.

Lan Xichen smiles, moving forward into the room. “Between yourself and Young Master Wei, I daresay night-hunting in these parts will be sparse for quite some time,” he says, settling gracefully at the low table in front of a small teapot. It is, Nie Mingue is pleased to note, still steaming. Lan Xichen pours himself a cup and raises it toward Nie Mingjue.

“To a reward befitting a champion,” he says, and the way he looks at Nie Mingue over the rim of his cup as he drinks curls something warm low in Nie Mingjue’s gut. Nie Mingjue reaches over and hooks his fingers in the folds of Lan Xichen’s robes, tugging him closer, and Lan Xichen just has time to put down his tea before Nie Mingjue’s mouth finds his.

Lan Xichen’s lips part as easily underneath his as ever, and he leans in gratifyingly quickly, mouth hot and pliable and _perfect_. Nie Mingjue swallows the muffled moan Lan Xichen makes when he settles a firm hand at the back of Lan Xichen’s neck, coaxing him closer. Lan Xichen melts into him, only breaking his mouth from Nie Mingjue’s at the sound of the door sweeping open again.

Jin Guangyao shuts the door firmly behind him, _snicking_ the lock closed. He stands for a moment in front of it, eyes closed and fingers rubbing at his temples, and Nie Mingjue can see his chest moving with deep, deliberate breaths.

“A-Yao?” Lan Xichen asks, and Jin Guangyao blows out an audible sigh, dropping his hands and lifting his eyes.

“Starting without me, I see,” he says evenly, fingers going to the tie of the cap underneath his chin. His eyes linger on where Nie Mingjue’s hand is still curled around the back of Lan Xichen’s neck. Nie Mingjue refuses to feel guilty about that, but he sits up nonetheless.

“Only just, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says gently.

“Did you tell him?” Jin Guangyao sets his cap carefully aside and stalks forward.

“I have not yet had the opportunity,” Lan Xichen murmurs, and Jin Guangyao smiles, sharp and fierce.

“Good.” He snatches up the untouched bowl of liquor in front of Nie Mingjue and drains it in one long swallow, and Nie Mingjue would be lying if he said his gaze wasn’t drawn to the working of Jin Guangyao’s throat. Jin Guangyo sets the bowl down with a clatter and slides into Nie Mingjue’s lap, draping one arm around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and wrapping the other hand around the medallion resting on Nie Mingjue’s chest.

“So, my champion,” Jin Guangyao says, and there’s an edge to his voice that raises the hairs along the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck. “It was not enough that you captured the most prey; you had to capture _so_ much that only a straggling few were left for the other competitors?”

Nie Mingjue sniffs, and slides a hand around Jin Guangyao’s waist. “Am I responsible for the incompetencies of others?”

“No, Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao answers with a tight smile. “But _I_ am, and you have _no_ idea the ruffled feelings I’ve had to soothe, the hand-holding, the _ass_ -kissing I’ve had to do over the last few hours.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Nie Mingjue says, still buoyed by victory and exertion; he means only to tease but Lan Xichen sighs as Jin Guangyao’s smile goes wider.

“Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, turning. “As we discussed: our champion deserves a reward, does he not?”

“Indeed he does,” Lan Xichen says lightly, pushing himself gracefully to his feet. His fingers trail warmly along Nie Mingjue’s shoulders as he passes behind them.

“Then we’re all in agreement,” Jin Guanyao says, and jerks the medal down, snapping it off from its fastening.

“What -” Nie Mingjue starts angrily, but Jin Guangyao’s mouth is already on his, fierce and demanding in a way he never is outside of the bedroom. Meng Yao had never sunk his teeth into Nie Mingjue’s lip with quite the same intensity; but he’s Jin Guangyao now, Nie Mingjue reminds himself, and things have changed.

Warm hands with slender fingers settle on Nie Mingjue’s sides, urging him up. Jin Guangyao shows no sign of leaving Nie Mingjue’s lap any time soon, so Nie Mingjue slides his hands under Jin Guangyao’s thighs and lifts, taking Jin Guangyao with him as he rises. The lips pressed against his curve into a smile and the arm around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders tightens as Jin Guangyao finds his balance. Silk slides around Nie Mingjue’s neck as Jin Guangyao pulls the broken ribbon free. Nie Mingjue deposits him none-too-gently on the bed, and Jin Guangyao pushes himself back to make room as Lan Xichen settles near the pillows, folding his legs underneath him. Nie Mingjue slides a knee on the bed, reaching for Jin Guangyao, but he’s stopped by a hand on his chest.

“Surely Da-ge is weary after his exertions today,” Jin Guangyao says solicitously, and if it weren’t for the way his mouth is wet and red he could sound as if he were still at the banquet. It itches somewhere underneath Nie Mingjue’s skin when he does that, but _stop being polite at me_ isn’t something he can say even if sometimes it’s all he can do to keep it behind his teeth. There are better rewards to be had here, however, so he swallows it back and lets Jin Guangyao guide him down until he’s laying on his back with his head cradled in Lan Xichen’s lap.

“Very good,” Jin Guangyao says, and if the tone is still overly polite the gleam in his eye is more honest at least, and Nie Mingjue offers a smirk in return.

“If you want to do all the work, I won’t object,” he says, moving to put his hands behind his head.

Lan Xichen catches his hands. “How fortunate,” he murmurs as something slender and strong wraps around Nie Mingjue’s wrists; Nie Mingjue looks up as Lan Xichen finishes tying the knot, his forehead bare and his hair starting to drift loose as he smiles down at Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue’s breath catches. “Xichen,” he says, swallowing, but his attention is drawn back down his body by firm, quick hands undoing his clothing. Jin Guangyao’s hands smooth across Nie Mingjue’s chest and tug his pants down his thighs, and when his fingers trail over Nie Mingjue’s cock his hips jerk up. Jin Guangyao gives him a small, satisfied smile that’s somehow more real than the one he’d been wearing moments ago, and draws a jar of slick from the sleeve of his robes.

Nie Mingjue’s mouth goes dry. “Came prepared, I see.” “Always,” Jin Guangyao promises, and as slick fingers wrap around his cock Nie Mingjue’s breath leaves him in a rush. Jin Guangyao strokes him firmly and just this side of too quick, even with the slick; Nie Mingjue’s hips buck up into Jin Guangyao’s hands and he hisses even as Lan Xichen holds him fast.

“Is this how you - treat a champion?” Nie Mingjue gets out, pretending his voice doesn’t hitch in the middle as Jin Guangyao wraps his fingers around the base of Nie Mingjue’s cock and squeezes.

“Ah, yes,” Jin Guangyao says. “ _Champion._ Thank you for reminding me.” He picks up the medallion, lying discarded on the bed, and draws the ribbon out. The medallion he tosses carelessly aside; Nie Mingjue has no idea where it lands, transfixed by the way Jin Guangyao snaps the ribbon taut before looping it firmly around the base of Nie Mingjue’s cock.

“Your stamina is indeed legendary, my _champion,_ ” Jin Guangyao says, fingers brushing against Nie Mingjue’s stiffening cock as he ties the ribbon off. “And we don’t want this to be over too soon.”

_That_ sounds more promising, as does the way Jin Guangyao shrugs out of his outer robes, discarding the layers of heavily embroidered cloth until only a thin under-robe lies loose around his shoulder, his hair spilling over his shoulders. The braids he had begun to wear during his time at Qinghe Nie pile neat and round on his head, and it stirs something deep in Nie Mingjue to know what lies underneath the Jin finery.

Jin Guangyao slides a leg over Nie Mingjue’s stomach, settling on his knees over Nie Mingjue’s hips. He ostentatiously re-slicks his fingers, then leans up and braces himself on his forearm as he reaches behind him. Nie Mingjue can tell the exact moment the first finger sinks in, and he drinks in greedily the hitch in Jin Guangyao’s breath, the way his teeth sink into his lip. This close he can see every flutter of Jin Guangyao’s lashes as he readies himself for Nie Mingjue’s cock. Nie Mingjue aches to touch, to run his fingers through that perfect hair and pull Jin Guangyao’s head down, to bite at those lips himself.

“Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao gasps, lifting his face toward Lan Xichen, and Lan Xichen shifts his grip on Nie Mingjue’s wrists so he can lean forward and press his mouth to Jin Guangyao’s. Jin Guangyao makes a noise that Nie Mingjue knows means he’s added a third finger; and while that curls something breathless in Nie Mingjue’s stomach his dick is hard and neglected and the faint brushes of skin as Jin Guangyao rocks back on his fingers are not nearly enough.

Nie Mingjue shifts, trying to rock his hips up to get some friction against his cock, and Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen look down immediately.

Lan Xichen smiles. “We shouldn’t keep Da-ge waiting, A-Yao,” he says, brushing Jin Guangyao’s hair away from his temples where it’s starting to go sweat-damp. “We did, after all, promise to reward him.”

“So we did,” Jin Guangyao gasps, strain starting to show around the edges of his voice. He licks his lips and sits back, making a small noise as his fingers slip out. Jin Guangyao reaches blindly behind himself, slick fingers closing around Nie Mingjue’s aching cock as he shifts up on his knees; he lets the head of Nie Mingjue’s cock rub over his entrance, eyelids fluttering as his teeth close on his lip. Nie Mingjue’s cock throbs at the tease and he jerks his hips up, growling. Jin Guangyao laughs, breathless and heady, his thighs flexing as he moves with Nie Mingjue.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen murmurs reprovingly. Jin Guangyao hums and braces his free hand on Nie Mingjue’s stomach, holding himself steady as he finally, _finally_ sinks back onto Nie Mingjue’s cock.

Nie Mingjue groans as the head of his cock slips into that tight, slick heat. Jin Guangyao pauses and readjusts himself before he leans back again, working himself down with short, rocking thrusts of his hips. His mouth falls open as he seats himself fully, and everything in Nie Mingjue wants to thrust up into him, to chase that look of unadulterated pleasure along with his own.

His hands flex and Lan Xichen’s lips trace over Nie Mingjue’s knuckles, a slow drag of warmth as Jin Guangyao starts to move. Nie Mingjue wants to wrap his hands around Jin Guangyao’s slender hips, to pull him down on Nie Mingjue’s cock over and over again, but like this he has to let Jin Guangyao set the pace. Fortunately Jin Guangyao no longer seems to be in the mood to tease, although he is in _some_ kind of mood, raking his fingernails down Nie Mingjue’s chest in lines of fire that Nie Mingjue arches up into, gasping. Jin Guangyao rolls his hips aggressively and Nie Mingjue digs his heels into the bed to meet him; the next thrust sinks his cock entirely into that wet, slick, heat and the moan that pulls from him is echoed from Jin Guangyao’s mouth. Jin Guangyao licks his lips and leans down, pressing biting kisses to Nie Mingjue’s chest that punctuate each thrust of Nie Mingjue’s hips. He sinks his teeth into the muscle where Nie Mingjue’s neck meets his shoulder and Nie Mingjue hisses even as his hips jerk up.

Jin Guangyao laughs, low and breathless. “Do you want me to stop, Da-ge?” he asks, and the false solicitousness is a slippery layer over something Nie Mingjue can’t begin to guess at. There’s tension pooling low in his belly and a delicious tight heat around his cock but despite all of that he almost answers _yes: yes, stop being difficult, stop being distant._

_Yes. Come back to me._

Instead he growls and turns his head, finally capturing Jin Guangyao’s lips in a kiss that has Jin Guangyao moaning into Nie Mingjue’s mouth. Long fingers brush Jin Guangyao’s hair away, tucking it behind his ear, and Lan Xichen rests his cheek against Nie Mingjue’s bound hands.

“A-Yao always has such enthusiasm, does he not?” Nie Mingjue closes his eyes because if Lan Xichen is going to _talk_ through this he’s not going to last, ribbon around his cock or no. “And he takes your cock so well, Da-ge. I could watch you fuck him for hours,” he says and Jin Guangyao hisses a breathless curse through his teeth.

“Please, Er-ge,” he says shakily, pushing himself up and wrapping a hand around his own cock. It’s flushed and leaking, and the first few strokes have him shuddering, body trembling around and over Nie Mingjue’s.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lan Xichen says smoothly, and Jin Guangyao _shakes_ , eyes screwing shut and mouth falling open. His body clenches down around Nie Mingjue’s and his cock jerks in his hand, striping Nie Mingjue’s chest with his release. Nie Mingjue groans but the ribbon around his cock holds fast, and although his body is flush and hot with pleasure his own orgasm remains frustratingly out of reach.

Jin Guangyao pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, growing heavier over Nie Mingjue’s hips as his muscles go lax. Nie Mingjue growls and gives him a tiny thrust, just enough for Jin Guangyao to blink his eyes open and look down.

“An impressive performance, as always,” he says, but there’s a lazy tilt to his smile that says that he doesn’t mean anything by it. He shifts up and to the side, limbs slow and uncoordinated; it’s one of the few times Jin Guangyao is anything less than graceful, and Nie Mingjue takes great pride in having been the cause.

“As expected from a champion,” Lan Xichen says warmly, and then he’s moving out from underneath Nie Mingjue’s head. There’s a complicated few minutes of shifting positions, and then Nie Mingjue is being resettled with his head on a pillow in Jin Guangyao’s lap as Lan Xichen settles astride his hips, unfastening his own robes. He’s a little slower about stretching himself than Jin Guangyao had been; although he reaches behind himself almost immediately he seems to be taking his time about it, rocking back on those long, slender fingers as he eyes Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao in turn.

“Aren’t you ready _yet_ ,” Nie Mingjue complains, hips twisting between Lan Xichen’s knees when Lan Xichen shows no sign of taking him in hand.

Lan Xichen laughs softly, forehead creasing bare and scandalous as he shifts the angle of his fingers inside of him. “Not - not enjoying the show, Da-ge?”

“I’ll enjoy it a lot more once you’re sitting on my cock, Xichen, come _on._ ” Nie Mingjue groans and tosses his head back. He catches Jin Guangyao smiling softly down at him, but as he watches it shifts into something more practiced.

“You know Er-ge likes to take his time,” Jin Guangyao says gently, and Nie Mingjue looks back at Lan Xichen in alarm. Lan Xichen smiles wide and disarming but Nie Mingjue _knows_ him, know that that’s no guarantee of anything.

“ _Xichen_ ,” Nie Mingjue growls, twisting in Jin Guangyaos’ grip. Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon holds taut around his wrists, whatever magics the Lan have infused in it proof against even his strength. Lan Xichen makes a soothing sound and skims his hand down Nie Mingjue’s chest, smearing Jin Guangyao’s release into his skin.

“Another time,” he says, low and promising, and as his fingers close around Nie Mingjue’s cock Nie Mingjue sighs in strained relief.

Lan Xichen’s face is always a pleasure to watch, but never so much as when he’s working himself down on Nie Mingjue’s cock. He takes it slowly but fully, and by the time he sits flush against Nie Mingjue’s hips there’s color splashed across his fair skin and sweat beginning to collect at his temples. He hums and rolls his hips gently, and Nie Mingjue swears he sees stars.

Lan Xichen is always gentler, more patient than Jin Guangyao, but Nie Mingjue isn’t sure that that isn’t its own form of torture, especially with his release building and building but kept at bay by that damnable ribbon. Jin Guangyao bites gently at the fleshy part of Nie Mingjue’s thumb, sending sparks down his spine as Jin Guangyao’s own fingers run soothingly along the edges of Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon. Lan Xichen traces his fingers over Nie Mingjue’s chest, leaning forward and pressing gentle kisses on the marks Jin Guangyao had left behind. Jin Guangyao reaches over Nie Mingjue’s head to run his thumb reverently over Lan Xichen’s lips; Lan Xichen grins and bites at it, drawing deeply interested noises from both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao.

Lan Xichen’s hips haven’t stopped their slow, methodical roll, and Nie Mingjue can feel his release hovering maddeningly just out of reach. The tension in his gut is brimming over, every slow hitch of Lan Xichen’s rhythm brushing another stroke of pleasure along Nie Mingjue’s nerves until he feels like the next one might break him.

“Xichen,” he gasps out, then looks up. “Guangyao. Do you mean to make me beg?” He’s very much afraid that for them, he would.

Jin Guangyao smiles sweetly at him. “Is this not what a champion deserves?”

“We did - mm. We did promise a reward,” Lan Xichen says, sitting up and grinding his hips back against Nie Mingjue’s in a filthy slide that has Nie Mingjue gasping for breath. Lan Xichen pauses, then shifts up, lifting off Nie Mingjue’s cock entirely and Nie Mingjue nearly howls with frustration; if this is what is meant by _reward -_

Then Lan Xichen reaches down and unties the ribbon around Nie Mingjue’s cock. He sinks back down on it the next second, and Nie Mingjue nearly chokes with the rush of sensation. His head is spinning and his skin feels too hot, too tight, but as his long overdue release catches up with him Nie Mingjue takes with him the curve of Lan Xichen’s smile, the press of Jin Guangyao’s lips against his wrist.

He comes back to himself with Lan Xichen’s release cooling on his chest and stomach and Lan Xichen himself gingerly shifting to the side. Nie Mingjue’s cock slips out of him, trailing strings of white, and Nie Mingjue feels a possessive stir of pride deep in his chest. Jin Guangyao is at work at his wrists, and as Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon loosens Nie Mingjue winces, flexing his fingers. Cool, clever hands captures one of Nie Mingjue’s and Jin Guangyao massages away the phantom tingle, pressing his lips to Nie Mingjue’s palm before setting it aside and reaching for the other.

Lan Xichen leans beside them, dragging his fingers through the mixed release on Nie Mingjue’s chest. Nie Mingjue makes a face at him and Lan Xichen smiles, reaching lazily over him for a small basin and cloth set on the nearby table.

“Prepared,” Nie Mingjue mutters as Lan Xichen starts to clean his chest with slow, careful swipes of the cloth.

“Always,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, then covers his mouth to hide a yawn. “But it has been a very long day and tomorrow will be no more restful. You may.” He averts his gaze, apparently finding something very interesting on the other side of the room. “There is room for three. If you wish to stay.” His tone says that he expects his offer will be rejected; and indeed while it’s one thing to be seen in the Lanling Jin quarters the evening of a celebration, it’s another still to be seen _leaving_ those quarters the morning after.

But Nie Mingjue likes this version of Jin Guangyao, the one he only gets to see after the rest has been stripped away, and it seems a shame to leave him too soon.

“I have no pressing obligations,” he says, settling more firmly into the pillow on Jin Guangyao’s lap. He cocks a brow at Lan Xichen. “Xichen?”

While most of Lan Xichen’s smiles are soft, this one is softer still, and just for them. “I will stay,” he says, setting the cloth aside. “You will have to move, though, if you want to sleep under the bedclothes instead of on top of them.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Nie Mingjue mutters, but he sits up and lets Lan Xichen maneuver them into Jin Guangyao’s bed. Lan Xichen slides in along Nie Mingjue’s side, head resting on his shoulder, and Jin Guangyao settles a little more hesitantly on Nie Mingjue’s other side. Jin Guangyao can’t seem to get comfortable, turning first one way and then the other, and Nie Mingjue finally gives up and wraps an arm around his chest, pulling him close so his back is pressed firmly along Nie Mingjue’s side.

“Go to _sleep_ ,” he says, and it comes out more like an order than he’d intended but Jin Guangyao still relaxes under his arm, heartbeat slowing underneath Nie Mingjue’s palm. Jin Guangyao grumbles something Nie Mingjue doesn’t catch but he settles nonetheless. Lan Xichen's breath is already evening out into sleep, one leg tangled with Nie Mingjue’s, and Nie Mingjue strokes his thumb over Jin Guangyao’s chest.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ll be here in the morning.”

Jin Guangyao sighs, and Nie Mingjue closes his eyes and follows his own advice.


	3. Lan Xichen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about this chapter: it takes place post-canon, with both of the character deaths that implies, and deals with Lan Xichen's grief. It does get sad, but I like to think that it ends on a hopeful note. However, if that is not your thing no worries, and feel free to pretend it ends at one of the earlier chapters.

The tea steams softly in the heavy silence of the _hanshi_ , and Lan Xichen lets it sit as he methodically sets three places around the low table. At two of the settings he places an additional cup, and as the tea steeps he carefully pours two servings of a potent wine clear as the mountain streams. When the tea is ready he pours a cup at each seat and settles at the third, breathing in the fragrance of a perfectly steeped blend.

If he closes his eyes he can almost see them, even now: Nie Mingjue leaning back against one hand as he takes the first sip, Jin Guangyao sitting perfectly correct as he murmurs his appreciation. They had always looked like they belonged here, and when Lan Xichen opens his eyes the _hanshi_ seems unbearably empty.

His gaze is drawn to the unassuming little incense burner in the middle of the table. A gift from his brother, although as this is a Lan sect artifact that may be stretching the definition a bit.

Lan Xichen had raised his eyebrows when Lan Wangji had set the incense burner on the table between them. “Do you know what this does, Wangji?” he had asked, and Lan Wangji had nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink.

No doubt that had been Wei Wuxian’s doing. Lan Xichen had given his brother a wan smile - the best he can muster up, most days - and swallowed back the screaming thing clawing up his throat that demands to know why Lan Wangji gets to have every happiness he’d ever wanted while Lan Xichen’s had been ripped away.

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The tea is getting cold. He’d best drink it.

Before he does, however, he leans forward and lights the incense. Smoke puffs out of the bronze mouth of the burner, blending with the fragrance of the tea, and Lan Xichen settles back. The tea is tasteless on his tongue but the incense is strong and almost searing going into his lungs. Lan Xichen sips his tea, and waits.

He closes his eyes for a long moment when he reaches the bottom of his cup, and when he opens them again two sets of eyes are watching him, one on each side. Nie Mingjue toys with his wine cup - he always did pass over the tea if alcohol was available - one arm propped on a knee as he lounges on one side of the table. One the other side, Jin Guangyao sits properly, wearing his resplendent Jin robes but bareheaded, a small crown of tiny braids the only ornament to his hair. They’re both watching him expectantly, healthy and whole as he remembers them, not as he last saw them.

Lan Xichen sighs, and puts down his tea. “This isn’t real.” He needs to say that, needs to hear himself say it.

Nie Mingjue raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

“This incense burner shows you the desires of your heart,” Lan Xichen tells him calmly, even as he aches to reach out. “Nothing about it influences the mortal world.”

“Ah, Er-ge, you forget,” Jin Guangyao says with a twinkle in his eye. “We are no longer of the mortal world.”

“Forget,” Lan Xichen says, voice fraying as his fragile self control begins to fall apart. “How could I _forget_ , A-Yao, after what you have done. After what _I_ have done.”

Nie Mingjue shoots Jin Guangyao a glare, but it’s a milder, gentler thing than the ones Lan Xichen remembers from when Nie Mingjue lived. Nie Mingjue drains his cup and puts it down, leaning forward to rest his hand over Lan Xichen’s. It’s large and warm and it feels so, _so_ alive; Lan Xichen trembles with the effort to not take those broad fingers in his own.

“You’ll have to forgive him. While death gives one a certain perspective, it’s easy to forget that it’s not shared.” He rubs his thumb over Lan Xichen’s knuckles and Lan Xichen gives in, turning his hand and gripping tight. Nie Mingjue feels solid and real, but these fantasies _feel_ real, or so he’s been told.

“Do I have to, Da-ge?” Lan Xichen whispers, staring down at the table in front of him. “Do I have to forgive him?” _And if I forgive him, how can I live with myself?_

Nie Mingjue’s grips tightens on his. “Perhaps I chose the wrong words. They’re not what I’m best at, you know that.” Although Lan Xichen keeps his gaze fixed on the table, he can feel Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao exchange a glance, and then Nie Mingjue speaks again. “Well, Guangyao? Should Xichen forgive you?”

“An unfair question, Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, and then a slim hand reaches into Lan Xichen’s field of vision. Jin Guangyao plucks the teacup out of Lan Xichen’s unresisting fingers, setting it gently on the table, and then wraps his fingers around Lan Xichen’s free hand. “What use is _forgiven_ or _unforgiven_ to us?”

Lan Xichen grips their hands tightly, lifting them to press against his forehead as he bows his head and closes his eyes. “I miss you,” he says brokenly, feeling wetness roll down his cheeks. “I miss you every day, with every breath.”

There’s a shuffle of movement from both sides of the table, and then two warm and solid arms slide around his back, one from each side.

“If you need to hear it, I will say it: I do not blame you. I could never blame you, Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, lips pressed into Lan Xichen’s hair. Lan Xichen gulps for air.

“You do not have to,” Lan Xichen says wretchedly. “I have more than enough for myself.”

“If there is blame, we all share in it.” Nie Mingjue’s low voice rumbles on Lan Xichen’s left and Lan Xichen wants to turn into it, to bury his face against Nie Mingjue’s chest and let him speak words of comfort. “Do not take too much upon yourself.”

“Who else is left?” Lan Xichen counters, lifting his head and blinking furiously against the wetness in his eyes. “What else is left to me but this lonesome atonement?”

“Is that what you’re doing,” Jin Guangyao says, as if something has become clear to him. “Atonement.”

Lan Xichen takes a deep breath and looks squarely at Nie Mingjue. He lets himself drink in every line and plane of Nie Mingjue’s face, lost to him for so long but no less dear for it.

“I failed you, Da-ge” Lan Xichen says distinctly and clearly, because even if these are hallucinations he needs to say it. “I did not see the signs, and you died terribly for it.”

He turns to Jin Guangyao. “I failed you as well, A-Yao.” Jin Guangyao’s face is soft and attentive and Lan Xichen longs for him even now. “I did not see the signs. And you died terribly for it.”

“We all made choices, Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao says gently. “Da-ge, myself, even you.”

“I should have seen,” Lan Xichen says, shaking his head.

“I went to great lengths to ensure that you did not,” Jin Guangyao says dryly. “But you asked what was left: you have a flourishing sect and an upstanding young nephew, both of whom will need guidance. You have a brother who worries about you, so much so that he will break the laws of your sect to bring you a forbidden artifact.”

Lan Xichen huffs. “The laws of our sect do not mean much to Wangji except when he wants them to, these days,” he says, and it’s more bitter than he usually allows himself to be but he feels raw all the time and he’s so _tired_.

“You must know that he loves you still,” Nie Mingjue says, and Lan Xichen lets out a short laugh.

“Love makes it hurt all the worse, I’m afraid.” He pauses, then asks quietly, “You did love me, once. Did you not?”

“I have never stopped,” Nie Mingjue says, and Lan Xichen closes his eyes as fresh tears track down his cheeks.

“Nor I,” Jin Guangyao adds, and Lan Xichen bows his head.

They let him weep, his soft sobs filling the _hanshi_. Nie Mingjue gathers him up in his arms and Lan Xichen turns his face into the cloth of his robes and lets the last of his self-control slip away; Jin Guangyao’s hand rubs soothing circles over his back as he leans against them both, resting his head against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. Eventually the tears cease and Lan Xichen’s breathing slows; somehow the silence in the _hanshi_ is less oppressive this time. Lan Xichen shifts in Nie Mingjue’s arms and Jin Guangyao smiles, wiping a thumb across Lan Xichen’s cheekbone.

“You always were a pretty crier,” he says, and there’s a light note of teasing that pulls Lan Xichen’s mouth up despite himself.

He catches at Jin Guangyaos’ hand, and after a tentative moment he twines their fingers together. “And your face always got blotchy and red, very dignified.”

Jin Guangyao sniffs haughtily but there’s no real air of affront. “That’s cruel, Er-ge.” He looks at Nie Mingjue expectantly and Lan Xichen cranes his head up as well.

Nie Mingjue smirks. “I never cried.”

“Is that so, Da-ge? I didn’t realize that night in Qinghe with the ropes was so unmemorable,” Jin Guangyao says, resting his arm on Nie Mingjue’s shoulder and playing with a dangling braid.

“That’s different,” Nie Mingjue says brusquely. “My eyes were...leaking. Not the same.”

“Of course, of course,” Jin Guangyao agrees earnestly and this time when Lan Xichen turns his face into Nie Mingjue’s face it’s to hide a smile. He’s _missed_ this, the easy push and pull when it’s just the three of them, and it fills up something aching in his heart. Warm fingers brush his hair back from his temples, skimming over the shell of his ear and down his neck. Lan Xichen shivers, and looks up into Nie Mingjue’s face.

“I’ve missed you,” Nie Mingjue says quietly, leaning down to close the space between them. His lips are firm and his mouth hot, everything Lan Xichen remembers exactly as he remembers it. He leans up into it, drinking in everything he can as Jin Guangyao’s fingers tighten on his.

Nie Mingjue pulls back, smiling slightly, and turns to look at Jin Guangyao. “I’ve even missed you, despite everything.”

“As have I,” Jin Guangyao admits, gaze lowering. Nie Mingjue lifts one hand away from Lan Xichen’s side and cups the side of Jin Guangyao’s face, and Jin Guangyao looks up, eyes widening as Nie Mingjue’s mouth finds his. Lan Xichen leans against Nie Mingjue’s chest and watches, feeling the empty places inside him start to fill up. When they break apart Jin Guangyao blinks his eyes open slowly, and then looks almost shyly at Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen squeezes his fingers, pulling him closer. “Do you even have to ask?” Jin Guangyao’s mouth is soft and unsure against his, and Lan Xichen draws him closer still, as if he can layer over the memory of that terrible night with something softer, something sweeter.

Jin Guangyao gasps when they break apart, and his eyes are dark and anticipatory as he looks between Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue. Lan Xichen winds his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and presses his mouth to Nie Mingjue’s jaw.

“You know where the bed is,” Lan Xichen says against Nie Mingjue’s skin, and the muscle jumps underneath his lips. “Take me there.”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t waste any time, arms sliding underneath Lan Xichen’s legs and around his back. He lifts Lan Xichen with ease, turning and striding through the _hanshi_ ; Jin Guangyao keeps pace with them, one hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder as if he can’t bear to let go. As soon as Nie Mingjue sets Lan Xichen carefully on his knees on the bed Jin Guangyao surges up against him, pressing kisses to his temple, to his forehead, to his mouth. His body presses warm and solid against Lan Xichen’s front as Nie Mingjue slides in behind them, arms wrapping around Lan Xichen and chin resting on his shoulder. His hands slide down Lan Xichen’s chest to the ties of his robes, and Lan Xichen gasps against Jin Guangyao’s mouth as his clothing starts to fall open. Jin Guangyao’s hands join Nie Mingjue’s, and soon Lan Xichen’s bed is a mess of discarded robes and searching hands against bare, overheated skin.

Lan Xichen shudders as Nie Mingjue’s cock brushes between his thighs, rubbing against the cleft of his ass and the soft skin between his legs. Jin Guangyao leaves off nuzzling against Lan Xichen’s shoulder and sits back, looking around.

“Do you still -” he starts, and Lan Xichen nods.

“In the drawer.” He feels strangely weightless, as if Nie Mingjue’s hands sliding around his waist are the only things holding him down. Jin Guangyao leans over, hair falling over one shoulder as he rummages in the little cupboard by Lan Xichen’s bed. He sits back up, triumphant, with a little pot of salve and Lan Xichen reaches for it.

“No, Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, moving closer even as he keeps the pot out of reach. He uncorks it and dips two fingers in. “Let me.”

Lan Xichen closes his eyes and nods, breath blowing out as Nie Mingjue adjusts the spread of Lan Xichen’s legs over his own. He feels unbalanced, almost ready to fall until Jin Guangyao presses up against him, one arm sliding around his back, holding him steady. Lan Xichen wraps his arms loosely around Jin Guangyao’s shoulders and leans forward, letting them hold his full weight as slick fingers slide between his cheeks. Jin Guangyao stretches him open methodically but not _too_ slowly, and Lan Xichen hums, rocking back onto those clever fingers as they twist inside of him. Nie Mingjue’s hands are solid on his waist, keeping him anchored, and Lan Xichen turns his head into Jin Guangyao’s hair, breathing in the familiar fragrance as his heart threatens to beat its way out of his chest. He could stay just like this, forever, held up by their hands and caught safe between them, here in this place where no force from the outside world can reach.

Jin Guangyao’s fingers slip out and he presses closer, reaching behind Lan Xichen. Something large and blunt presses against Lan Xichen’s entrance and he shivers even with the heat coursing through him. Nie Mingjue’s hands shift, the press of his fingers becoming more insistent, and Jin Guangyao shifts his free hand to Lan Xichen’s shoulder; the two of them guide Lan Xichen up and back, and Lan Xichen gasps at the stretch as they push him slowly and inexorably down onto Nie Mingjue’s cock.

Lan Xichen’s head falls back as he sinks down, each small movement of Nie Mingjue’s hips spearing Lan Xichen further open. Nie Mingjue gathers Lan Xichen up in his arms, pulling him back against Nie Mingjue’s chest and the shifting angle steals the breath from his lungs. He blinks furiously, caught between the cock inside him and the strong arms around his chest; something pats the side of his face and he looks up into Jin Guangyao’s concerned face.

“Er-ge?” It doesn’t sound like the first time he’s said it.

“It’s fine,” Lan Xichen says, swallowing. He clenches briefly to feel the way Nie Mingjue’s cock shifts inside of him, and the arms around his chest tighten. “I’m fine, A-Yao.”

Jin Guangyao doesn’t look like he entirely believes that, but he lets his hands trail down Lan Xichen’s neck and chest, skimming over Nie Mingjue’s hands on Lan Xichen’s stomach. Jin Guangyao wraps a firm hand around Lan Xichen’s cock and Lan Xichen bites his lip on a moan, hips shifting up as much as he can into Jin Guangyao’s hand. Jin Guangyao’s wraps his other arm under Lan Xichen’s shoulders again, and Nie Mingjue’s hand slide down to Lan Xichen’s hips, letting Jin Guangyao take Lan Xichen’s weight.

“Let us take care of you,” Jin Guangyao murmurs into Lan Xichen’s hair. “Let this be how you remember us.”

Lan Xichen shudders and wraps his arms around Jin Guangyao’s shoulders, burying his face against Jing Guangyao’s neck. One of Nie Mingjue’s large hands slides warm and comforting down Lan Xichen’s spine before resettling at his hip; then Nie Mingjue’s grip tightens and he starts to move.

Lan Xichen gasps at the familiar thrust of that large cock inside him. It’s one thing when Nie Mingjue is still; then Lan Xichen can almost become accustomed to the stretch of the hot and heavy thing inside of him. But when Nie Mingjue’s hips roll up there’s no ignoring the size of him, not when every thrust threatens to split Lan Xichen open. He pants open-mouthed against Jin Guangyao’s neck as each rocking thrust pushes Lan Xichen into him; Jin Guangyao braces his knees and takes it, shifting closer until his flushed cock brushes Lan Xichen’s. Cool fingers wrap around the both of them, and Lan Xichen moans into Jin Guangyao’s skin as he begins to stroke.

Pleasure coils itself down Lan Xichen’s spine and through his limbs, but he tries to stave it off, to make this last. Jin Guangyao murmurs formless encouragement as he takes even more of Lan Xichen’s weight, until Lan Xichen is held up entirely between Nie Mingjue’s strong hands and Jin Guangyao’s body pressed against his. He relaxes and lets them hold him, lets Nie Mingjue’s cock and Jin Guangyao’s hand build layer upon layer of heat in his body until it’s all too much and he has to close his eyes against the gentle, cresting wave that drags him under.

He clings to them through it, to the way Nie Mingjue’s fingers dig in as he pulls Lan Xichen back against him, hips jerking out his own release. He savors the way Jin Guangyao gasps his name in his ear and trembles against him, shaking with his own orgasm. Lan Xichen pulls him in tightly, reaching blindly with one hand for Nie Mingjue, and a large hand finds his in the darkness behind his eyelids. Lan Xichen holds them tightly, holds this moment against the one where he’ll be forced to let go.

Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao sit with him, hands rubbing soothing over his overheated skin as Lan Xichen breathes through it. When he feels like he can, he lifts his head and attempts to sit up, but his limbs immediately betray him and he half falls to the side.

Two pairs of hands catch him and ease him to the bed, Jin Guangyao laughing a little as Nie Mingjue huffs.

“Worn out so soon, Xichen?” Nie Mingjue teases. Jin Guangyao smirks next to him, and _this_ is how Lan Xichen wants to remember them, laughing and happy and _whole_ in all the ways that matter.

“Stay with me,” he says before he realizes he’s going to. Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao exchange a glance and Lan Xichen adds, “Just for tonight. Just - for a little while.”

“We can do that,” Jin Guangyao says quietly, and Lan Xichen is almost tempted to ask what _else_ they can do, what else might be possible -

But perhaps it’s best that he doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s best that it ends here, with Nie Mingjue gently manhandling him under the bedclothes and Jin Guangyao sliding in beside him. The bed dips under Nie Mingjue’s weight and his arm slides around Lan Xichen’s middle, pulling him back against that broad chest. Lan Xichen can feel Nie Mingjue’s heartbeat thudding strong and familiar against his back; he puts a hand on Jin Guangyao’s chest and feels a similar beat there, so steady and so dear Lan Xichen can feel it lulling him to sleep. He blinks and clenches his jaw against a yawn, and Jin Guangyao smiles and puts his hand over Lan Xichen’s.

“Sleep,” he says. Lan Xichen wants to stretch this moment out, to live in it a little bit longer, but he can feel fatigue pulling at him, weighting his eyelids. “We’ll keep watch.”

Nie Mingjue noses into Lan Xichen’s loosened hair. “We’ll keep watch,” he affirms, and Lan Xichen closes his eyes, held warm and fast between these two people he loves. Despite everything.

He wakes alone.

He knew he would; but somehow the early morning sunlight seems less harsh than it did yesterday, the silence in the _hanshi_ less heavy and stifling. As Lan Xichen rolls on his back in his empty bed birdsong trickles in through the window; he’d seen the nest in the tree outside, but he can’t recall hearing the song. Lan Xichen pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He feels pleasantly sore and stretched, but these hallucinations feel real, he reminds himself.

There’s nowhere he has to be and so he takes his time with his morning ablutions, dressing himself and drifting out toward the low table in the sitting area. He’d left the tea service sitting out; he’ll need to wash it out and put it properly away. He reaches first for the bowls full of wine - and pauses.

The bowl Nie Mingjue had drunk from sits empty in the dawn light. Lan Xichen picks it up carefully, even turns it upside down. It remains empty.

Lan Xichen sets the bowl back down and looks at the incense burner in the center of the table. A bird flits past the sun outside, casting a flickering shadow over the table, and it almost looks like the little burner smiles at him.

Lan Xichen lets out a deep breath, and picks up the incense burner, rising. He takes it to a large cabinet and places it carefully on a shelf, closing the door gently. He’ll return it to its proper home soon enough; he is in secluded meditation, but he thinks now that he can see a day when he will not be.

“Goodbye,” Lan Xichen murmurs, resting his fingers on the cabinet door, and while the word still pulls a gentle ache from his heart it’s no longer a rending, clawing thing that threatens to choke him.

He turns away. The incense burner will be there if he needs it; but as Lan Xichen faces the dawn he no longer thinks that he will.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](https://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr or [@36SaveFiles](https://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/) on Twitter!


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